


Professionalism

by Mysecretfanmoments



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cuddling, Ereri Week, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1603994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysecretfanmoments/pseuds/Mysecretfanmoments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU where Eren is a professional cuddler and Levi is his client. Submission for day 3 of EreRi week: Cuddling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Professionalism

**Author's Note:**

> Before you ask: yes, professional cuddlers do exist.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!

Eren frowned at his computer screen, reading the e-mail he’d just received for a fourth time. Was this Levi guy for real, or was he another troll? He’d been dealing with Internet trolls ever since the article about “Portland’s second professional cuddler” ran in the Oregonian last month, but Eren was usually fairly good at distinguishing them from potential clients. This guy could be either. It wasn’t unusual for potential clients to ask questions before a session, but most of those questions made sense to him: a person allergic to lavender asking whether he could remove any lavender products from the room, a person mourning the loss of a loved one asking him to wear a specific scent. This guy asked… everything. What temperature he washed the sheets at. What products he used to wash them. How often he washed them. How often he washed himself.

Eren groaned. If only there was a postscript saying “ur gay” or something. Would someone really offer to pay double the fee for a guarantee of just-washed sheets? Sixty dollars per hour was fairly pricey to start with. Over a hundred for an hour of cuddling just seemed—well. Not desperate. Eren never liked to call his clients desperate, because everyone else did and they were wrong, but it was something. Something others would probably call desperate.

A fifth reread didn’t shed any more light on the situation, and finally Eren got to work on his reply, outlining his washing process. He almost wanted to defend his other clients since Levi seemed to think they were all bedbug-ridden, patchouli-scented hippies who hadn’t washed since the last century, but if Levi really was a clean freak that probably wouldn’t matter. He’d still want the whole place disinfected.

Eren had barely had time to make himself a cup of tea before there was a reply in his inbox—another email from Levi. He had some recommendations where detergent was concerned— _not weird_ , Eren told himself _, it’s not weird, just go with it_ —but there were no more questions. Instead, there was only a request:

Whether he could have the first appointment slot next Monday.

 

* * *

 

 

Monday morning dawned dull and rainy, the kind of day that made Eren’s job easy—perfect for cuddling. He didn’t mind sunny days, per se, but the rain lent an air of intimacy that seemed to soothe his clients. It soothed him, too, and today was a day when he might need it.

He was finally meeting the Levi client today—something he’d been dreading and looking forward to in equal parts all week. A part of him was worried this Levi would take one look at him and leave, but he knew that was stupid. His picture was up on the website people contacted him through, and it was up to date. Levi had known what he looked like when he sent that long-ass email a week ago.

The appointment was at eleven—before the city got busy because of lunch hour—and Eren took his time getting ready for it. He brushed under his nails in the shower. He washed behind his ears. He even flossed after brushing his teeth, which was only a biweekly occurrence normally. If Levi walked out on this appointment, it wouldn’t be Eren’s fault.

Five minutes to eleven found Eren sitting nervously in the waiting room he used to receive clients. He shared the house with Armin and Mikasa, but the side entrance and the studio were all his, and therefore his responsibility. He hoped he’d cleaned it well enough.

He wiped his palms off on his pajama pants. Why was he so nervous? This was just another client—but the memory of Levi’s terse tone in the email made Eren feel on edge, somehow. As if there was something more than money at stake. A lot of people thought Eren’s job was a joke—Eren’s friend Jean could barely be in the same room as him without bringing up how idiotic the concept of a “professional cuddler” was—but there were a lot of people who needed the comfort of touch and intimacy without expectation. Eren felt a responsibility towards them.

He also needed the money to pay for the student loans he’d racked up getting his art degree.

The doorbell from the side entrance went, and Eren opened the door. A short man stood outside, wrapping a cover around a folded-up compact umbrella. He looked up at Eren with tired eyes.

“Levi?”

The man nodded.

Eren smiled and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

Levi stepped into the waiting room, looking around. He took in the shoe rack beside the door that led to the studio, the huge stack of CDs, the overstuffed couch, the counter of tea supplies that never got used. Then he looked at Eren.

“How do you do this?”

Eren blinked. “How do I start a session, you mean?”

“No. How do you meet strangers and just… do this?”

His tone said “ _how do you stand it_?”

“They fill out a form, like you did,” Eren said. “There’s the before-session guidelines, which most of them follow, and if they don’t I have the right to deny them service. And… then it’s just easy, I guess. There’s no talking in the studio, which I think sets people at ease.”

It was probably Levi’s worst nightmare, from the look on his face. When Eren suggested he take off his coat he did as asked, and Eren took the chance to observe him, noting his upright posture and impeccable dress. He’d expected Levi to be clean, given the email, but he’d also expected him to be a bit—well, weird. So far his short stature was the only unusual thing about him, and he was too handsome to be here just because he couldn’t find company elsewhere.

Eren could guess why Levi was here, though. There was a control freak aura about the older man, and interactions like these—with set terms, and no expectations beyond them—would appeal to him. He stored the information away for later.

“Would you like music?” he asked. “I have a selection, and you can always bring your own on USB or as a CD. On rainy days sometimes people prefer not to have music.”

Levi inclined his head. Though his shoulders were broad for his height, he looked a lot smaller without the coat, and the gesture was surprisingly—cute. It was cute.

Eren felt a tiny thread of uncertainty unfurl in his stomach. Cute was okay—just as long as it didn’t combine with handsome to turn into anything like _attractive_ or _crush-worthy_. He’d had a few clients sign up in hopes of a quick boyfriend—awkward for all involved—but so far he’d never been the one to harbor impure thoughts. There had been an older woman, once, whom he’d started feeling too attached to, but she’d stopped coming once her divorce went through.

“What do you prefer?” Levi asked.

“I like the rain.”

Levi nodded, and toed off his shoes. “Then let’s do that.”

Eren was about to lead him through to the next room when he thought twice about the leather belt the older man was wearing. “Do you want to take that off?”

Levi raised an eyebrow, but did as Eren suggested. He’d be glad of it when it wasn’t digging into his hip later, Eren thought.

“Wait,” Levi said when Eren opened the door to the studio. “There’s—no talking in there, right? Before we go in, is it… clean?”

Eren smiled. “I did my best, but you’re free to inspect it however much you like. I washed the sheets the way you said.”

If Eren had expected Levi to trust him at his word, he would have been disappointed. The older man walked around the dim room, inspecting the pillows and the sheets—even the mattress under the sheets. Eventually he joined Eren by the doorway. Seeing Levi’s uncomfortable glance at Eren’s hands, he held them up for inspection—proffering clean nails, the scent of soap rising off them. It was a little painful seeing the way Levi relaxed visibly once the inspection was done. What would it be like, to always be that tight strung?

“Thank you,” Levi said, which Eren took to mean he was done. He nodded.

“You can bring your own pillow next time if you like,” he said. “I mean—if you want a next time. Anything to make yourself more comfortable.”

Levi nodded.

“If anything this session makes you uncomfortable, just signal to me. It’s okay to say you want to move or lie differently, just no conversations.”

He nodded again, shifting his weight to his other foot, and Eren sensed a strange kind of restlessness from him. Impatience, maybe, to get the scary part over with; Eren still got the impression that Levi wasn’t exactly comfortable with intimacy.

The silence folded in around them as they entered the room, Eren closing the door behind them. The curtains were drawn, and there was a constant sound of water flowing from the gutter outside. Eren lay down on the bed first, slipping beneath the sheets and waiting for Levi. The other man approached cautiously, tucking himself in against Eren’s side. His arm reached across Eren’s chest, his head resting on his shoulder. He was surprisingly heavy.

When Levi stopped moving, Eren wrapped his arm around him. “Is this okay?” he asked, not sure if Levi would prefer not to be touched in return, but his head gave the smallest of nods, and Eren left the arm there. He let out a long breath, and closed his eyes.

His first instinct was always to focus on the client—in this case, the tense feel of Levi’s shoulders, his controlled breathing, the clean smell of his hair—but it was a bad instinct. If he focused on Levi, he wouldn’t relax, and so he focused on the sound of the rain, the warmth of the room.

The rain really was amazing. It made him want to paint something, though he wasn’t sure what. Maybe he’d go outside before his next session and look for a while at the leaden sky from under the overhang, with the pipe dripping nearby. Or maybe he’d just stay warm inside and look out the window.

He let himself relax fully into the bed, and bit by bit Levi followed. The breathing that had been under rigorous control when they first made contact was smoothing out. His arm across Eren’s chest draped more loosely. Eren smiled a little.

Sometime during the session, about halfway in, Levi turned, and Eren followed without comment. He curled himself around the older man, stuffing one arm under the pillow and the other over Levi, and it seemed it was the right thing to do. Levi’s hand rested lightly on his, almost as if he was holding it close, and the small suggestion of intimacy made Eren’s heart clench a little. He hoped there were others in Levi’s life who cared about him. Eren never asked his clients about the people in their lives—it didn’t seem right—but sometimes he worried about them. They were so vulnerable during these moments, it was impossible not to worry.

He breathed in, slowly, aware he was getting too caught up. The clean scent of Levi’s hair centered him somewhat, and he fought the temptation to take another long sniff. That kind of behavior wouldn’t lead to good business reviews. Instead, he allowed his thoughts to drift for a hazy, slow period where he wasn’t aware of much besides Levi’s warmth and the sound of the rain. The minutes ticked by unnoticed.

Birdsong erupting from the timer brought him back to the present, and he disentangled himself very gently to turn the alarm off. Levi stretched against the bed, giving Eren a somewhat unwelcome glimpse of his back arching and his shirt riding up. It made Eren warm up, just slightly, and he found himself wondering wholly inappropriate things about his client, like what kind of people he was attracted to.

Eren’s male clients tended to blurt their sexuality to him within the first session, as if they couldn’t stand to let him draw his own conclusions, but he had a feeling Levi wouldn’t.

He led Levi into the next room, noting the change in his posture. He looked more relaxed, Eren was sure. That was a good sign—there was always the odd client who showed up and realized cuddling with a stranger was the last thing they wanted.

Levi was quiet as he tied his shoes, and Eren smiled at his turned back. “You’re allowed to talk again now, you know.”

“Mm.”

Eren took that to mean he didn’t want to, and left him to his thoughts. When he came up to the table to pay, though, and paid an extra twenty on top of the expected amount, Eren wouldn’t let him.

“That’s way too much. You’re already paying double and—”

Levi looked away. “Take it. I know I’m difficult.”

“You’re not _that_ difficult.”

It made Levi look up, and his expression stole Eren’s breath. It made him want to reassure the man further, but he wasn’t quite sure how.

“I mean it. You already gave me a tip, right? About the washing?”

Levi took the last twenty back reluctantly. “Fine. Now do I—make another appointment?”

“If you want,” Eren said. “When were you thinking?”

“Next week? Same… arrangement?”

The caution in the older man’s voice made his stomach twist again in that way that wasn’t quite appropriate. It wasn’t his responsibility to worry about his clients’ emotional wellbeing beyond the sessions, but sharing body heat with someone for sixty minutes tended to make it impossible not to. He told himself it was what made him good at his job.

Maybe it didn’t, though. Maybe any idiot could cuddle for sixty minutes.

“That works for me,” Eren said.

 

* * *

 

 

Levi became one of Eren’s handful of regular customers after that. For the first few weeks, he still inspected the bed and Eren’s fingers before every session, but on week five he took Eren at his word. Eren didn’t ask him to; he just did, and that was infinitely better.

Eren made sure not to comment on Levi’s progress because of the tension that crept into Levi each time his “difficult” tendencies cropped up. It was Eren’s job to make him relax, and he liked to think he was doing it to the best of his abilities. Levi certainly relaxed into his embrace faster than he used to.

It didn’t take a genius to see the older man was getting attached to him in other ways, too. He lingered longer in the waiting room, asking questions, expressing concern. He seemed worried that Eren was going to get murdered by one of his clients, and Eren had to tell him there was a failsafe he’d developed with Armin and Mikasa. He didn’t give Levi the details on the off chance he was the type to axe-murder people, but Levi seemed comforted to know that Eren had some kind of protection.

Eren learned things about Levi, too, though there was nothing intimate about them. He learned the older man worked for a Portland-based marketing company, and that he was involved with a local martial arts school. When Levi saw the question rising in Eren’s eyes at the new information, he explained that he could handle the lack of hygiene if he accepted it in advance and scrubbed himself clean thoroughly afterward. One of his friends ran the school, and made sure it was in better condition than most other places where people sweated for exercise.

Two months into their acquaintance, Levi asked Eren what his partner thought of the professional cuddling job. It touched on a subject both of them had been careful to avoid, but Eren admitted that he didn’t have a partner—and that he wasn’t sure he _could_ have one, while maintaining this job.  

When Levi asked if he had a different job in mind for the future, Eren told him about the art degree gathering dust upstairs in his room, the paintings he did for himself and the digital art he did for others—small jobs, online. When Levi mentioned perhaps helping him get commissions through his marketing company, Eren couldn’t help but smile.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Levi said. “It just seems wrong for you to put your life on hold for the sake of old farts who need someone for basic human contact.”

Eren’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not old.”

Levi looked away. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments.”

“I wasn’t complimenting you. I was stating a fact.”

Eren could have sworn he saw color creep into Levi’s cheeks at that. It made his stomach feel funny, and he made a mental note never to touch this subject again, not even with a ten-foot pole. It was sure to ruin a good thing; he was already hyperaware of Levi’s body during their sessions, and uncharacteristically nervous. It meant he had to spend the half hour after Levi’s session reminding himself that his job created a false sense of intimacy, that he didn’t really _know_ the other man despite what his body told him. It was distracting, and it led to strange, abstract paintings that were never going to sell.

Of course, it was partially because of Levi that he could afford those painting supplies.

It wasn’t real. He couldn’t let himself think that Levi wanted to start something with him. Eren was supposed to fulfill a role for his clients, and the role was well-defined: to be there, to hold them and be held, to make them feel at ease. There were boundaries, and clothes never came off.

Simple. Straightforward. Unfortunately, in his weaker moments, it didn’t stop Eren from wanting more.

 

* * *

 

 

The abstract paintings sold.

Jean had personally assured him they were shit and no one with taste would buy them— _why was he friends with Jean again?_ —but when they were presented at a local gallery under the simple title Eren had chosen—Sessions, for his inspiration—he ended up receiving a good sum for them.

And things like that kept happening. There was a commission from Levi’s company, as he’d threatened, and then another one from a different company Eren thought Levi might have referred him to. Between commissions and galleries that began letting him showcase his work, his name started to mean something in the local art world. Before he knew quite what was happening, he was spending a lot less time cuddling and a lot more time painting.

It was what he wanted. His art was important to him—but he didn’t want to leave the cuddling gig entirely, either. He was good at it. People told him so, again and again. Old ladies who missed their life partners. Men and women going through divorces, or medical problems. People recovering from break-ups, or the loss of a friend. He was a source of support for them, and he wanted to continue being one.

Eventually, though, he added a line to his website, and he thought it might mean the beginning of the end:

 _Not taking new clients_ , it said on the front page _._

 

* * *

 

 

Eren generally said no to day-drinking, given his tendency to nap for hours afterward, but free wine tested his resolve. Free wine events where he was forced to make awkward small talk with strangers broke it, and that was how he found himself walking around the warehouse-turned-art-gallery pleasantly buzzed.

He must have had more wine than he thought, though, because when he looked down the metal catwalk where he stood, he saw Levi standing against a bannister, looking at a painting with a glass of wine in his hand. Eren’s stomach flipped over, and he squinted.

Nope, it wasn’t the buzz—that was definitely Levi. What was he doing here? Eren knew he wasn’t into art in any large capacity. Had he seen Eren’s name among the artists being showcased?

No, that wasn’t possible either. Eren used a pseudonym for his official artworks, and Levi didn’t know it. So what was the older man doing here?

“Come look at this one!” someone shouted above the general schmoozing, and Levi unfolded his arms. He looked away from Eren, further down the iron-grated walkway, at a person with wild hair and glasses. Eren wasn’t sure if they were a man or a woman, but it was clear Levi had come here with them.

Levi started to walk away, and without quite knowing what he was doing Eren ran after him, causing the catwalk to shake a little.

“Levi?” he called out, when he was close. He thought Levi would prefer it to a tap on the shoulder.

Levi whirled, and the surprise on his face looked genuine. “Eren? What are you doing here?” His eyes raked Eren’s body; it was the first time Levi had seen him in anything but pajamas.

Eren paused for breath, nerves breaking through the buzz of alcohol. Shit. They’d never met in real life. Was it even appropriate for him to approach Levi?

“I—uh. My paintings. They’re being featured. Why are _you_ here?”

“My friend—over there. They’re the one who did the creepy-ass cyborg paintings.”

Eren’s eyes widened. He’d seen them—paintings of LED-lit robotic limbs set into inflamed-looking flesh, and a hospital patient connected to an IV by a vein in his torso because most of his body was metal.  “I loved those! They’re Mikasa’s favorite, too—well, besides mine, which she’s forced to pretend to like better.”

“Well hell-o,” Levi’s friend said, wandering up to them. Eren tried not to be nervous. He was always a little uncomfortable around people whose work he admired, and Levi being here didn’t help. “Did I just hear you praising me?”

Eren smiled. There was something about the eyes behind those glasses, the rakish grin—something about this person set him at ease. “Yes, actually. My friends and I were arguing about the meaning behind your paintings earlier. My sister’s convinced you’re saying the digital age is bad for us, but I thought you were saying that technology can’t save us from disease and death, which is equally depressing.”

They grinned. “Well, you know I can’t say…”

“Don’t give Hanji too much credit,” Levi told him. “They also just really like robots and body parts.”

Hanji laughed at this, and Eren grinned. He felt his insides warming up with more than just the alcohol. Seeing Levi like this did strange things to his stomach, and he couldn’t figure out if it was gladness that Levi had happy-looking friends like Hanji or that the other man hadn’t been at all awkward about meeting him in a public place, not even in front of a friend.

“And you are…?” Hanji asked, looking from Eren to Levi.

“He’s Eren,” Levi said, as if that explained everything. “Though I don’t think I’ve seen any paintings with your name beside them?”

“Oh, they’re downstairs. I was hiding up here for a bit. I’m not very good at small talk.”

Levi looked surprised at that, which struck Eren as odd. Did he think Eren was socially adept? There was a reason he’d implemented the no-talking rule in the studio.

“Show me,” he said, and Eren nodded. He looked at Hanji, but they held up a hand in a little wave, then pointed down the catwalk—they were staying to look around. Eren wondered at the fact that they had accepted “he’s Eren” as an explanation when Levi introduced him, and were now leaving them alone, but he didn’t comment on it.

Eren and Levi clumped down the metal stairs, Eren leading them to his small corner. He was a little nervous at the prospect of Levi seeing his paintings, but he was excited too.

When Levi leaned in to examine the first one, though, he just about choked on his wine.

Levi coughed into his fist, and after a short break he could speak again. “Which is your real name?” he asked.

Eren blinked in confusion before he realized what Levi was talking about: the plate about the artist beside the painting. Instead of “Eren Jaeger”, it said “Eren Ackerman”.

“Ah—the one you know. This one is kind of a long story.” He looked at Levi, and then grinned. “I know it’s your name too, but I swear I was using it before I met you. Did you think I was your long-lost brother? Or a crazy stalker?”

Levi scrunched up his face. “Why that name?”

Eren looked down at the glass he held, his hand making a swirling motion even though it was empty. “My mother—she died when I was young. And my dad wasn’t really able to take care of me, so my friend’s family took me in. I was vindictive about it. Didn’t want his name on my stuff if I ever got famous, you know? So I used my friend’s last name for all my art projects.”

When he looked up, Levi was eyeing him carefully, and Eren started to feel exposed.

“ _Anyway_ ,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You were supposed to tell me what you thought about the painting, and you haven’t, so I know you’re just stalling for time now.”

Levi smiled a small smile, and turned back to the painting.

 

* * *

 

 

Eren knew a lot of things about Levi, things he thought not many people knew. He knew what the short hair at the back of Levi’s head felt like when stroked from different angles, what his breath sounded like when he started to fall asleep, how ticklish his body could become if Eren breathed into the back of his neck by accident—a myriad of small details Eren could conjure up in his memory at any time. Eren knew all these things, and yet, he did not know how to stop the man from overpaying him.

It was especially bad one Friday after an emergency cuddle session, when Eren had been “put out” by having to clean all the sheets at a different time than usual, and Levi insisted on paying more than the usual double. Eren disagreed loudly. The memory of the session made his chest feel tight. The way Levi had melted in his arms as he ran his hands through his hair was still fresh in his mind, and he knew he’d still be thinking about it when he went to sleep tonight. Levi had come in looking like he was ready to fall apart, and Eren had been able to put him back together.

Eren would have paid for that opportunity, if anyone had asked him to.

“You already overpay me,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I’m doing better, financially. I want you to stop—”

“No.”

Eren stomped. “Stop trying to finance me!”

“Give the extra money to charity if you’re so offended by it,” Levi said. “I don’t care. It’s my business how much I pay you. Why do you care so much?”

 _Because I like you_ , Eren thought, though that wasn’t right. He liked all the clients he had left—a whopping three—and felt no qualms charging them the same as he always had. But it was a different like with Levi, and he was becoming more aware of it with every session.

“It’s not right,” Eren mumbled, but it was a weak defense and Levi knew it.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” he said, when he finished paying.

 

* * *

 

 

Two of Eren’s clients stopped coming. One did not. Eren didn’t tell Levi he was the only one left, or that he’d taken down his website.

It wasn’t significant; as long as Levi wanted to continue their arrangement, Eren was going to hold up his end.

 

* * *

 

 

Eren was not going to shift. He was not going to move his hips, or try to fluff up the pillow, or draw the pant leg that had crept up back down with his other foot. He was not going to do any of those things, because he was not uncomfortable.

A week ago, he’d kissed the back of Levi’s neck while the older man was sleeping. Levi didn’t sleep during their sessions often, and Eren hadn’t thought about the gesture at all before making it. _Obviously_. Or else he’d have learned some self-control and kept his mouth to himself. He didn’t think Levi had noticed—though he did wake up shortly after—but it was the thought that counted.

This was wrong. He couldn’t keep it up. He’d be confirming all the shitty things people said about his job, and more. Levi came here for comfort, for heaven’s sake. Eren was _not_ allowed to picture him arching his back, or whispering into his neck, or straddling him with a knowing look on his face—

Levi shifted a little, backing up to fit his body against Eren’s more firmly. Eren froze at the increased contact, his face flushing. They were spooning; if he popped a boner, Levi was sure to feel it. He backed up a little more, his breathing unsteady.

 _Relax,_ he commanded himself, but then Levi moved so he was lying on his back, looking at Eren. There was a strange look in his slate grey eyes.

 _Say something_ , Eren thought. _Make a joke. Anything_.

He couldn’t get a word past the blocked feeling in his throat.

Levi was still looking at him. Eren raised his torso off the bed slightly, putting his weight on his elbow, but he had no idea what to do. He could slot his body to Levi’s and pretend nothing had happened—maybe—but there was a charge in the air that made it hard to do anything at all. He couldn’t break away from Levi’s gaze any more than he could read what lay behind it. Rain ticked against the roof cozily, but it failed to calm him this time.

His whole body felt tense with the desire to do something else—to move forward and meet Levi’s mouth with his own, to commit a cardinal sin and slip his hand under Levi’s shirt.

Levi’s tight stare flickered down to Eren’s mouth, and it broke the spell. Eren found himself moving forward, steadying himself on Levi’s other side so he was hovering over him. He met Levi’s eyes in question, and Levi’s hand wrapped around his bicep in answer.

Eren could hardly hear the rain over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He let his weight fall forward, and his lips brushed Levi’s lightly—dry, soft. He drew back, and their eyes met again.

Levi’s face was tinged pink, his mouth slightly open.

“Is this okay?” Eren asked, embarrassed at the hitch in his voice. Levi nodded tightly.

Eren lowered himself again, letting his lips press against Levi’s for a long moment before moving, trailing dryly along his jawline, to the skin under his ear, then down to his neck, allowing Eren to savor the tingle he felt in his lips at the feel of Levi’s skin under his mouth—until Levi’s hand caught Eren’s chin and moved his face back up for a kiss. Between the shock of feeling Levi’s mouth open beneath his and the absolute bliss of having Levi slide his hands into his hair, Eren lost the ability to hold himself up, his chest coming to rest on Levi’s so he could feel the thud of both their hearts in one place.

Levi didn’t seem to mind the extra weight.

As the kiss changed into roving lips and hands, stolen gasps of breath and limbs sliding against limbs, Eren wondered if it was possible to learn another person’s sounds and touches so well that words were no longer necessary. Each time Levi moved, Eren moved in counterpoint. Eren had never been particularly coordinated—there was a reason he’d started cuddling for money instead of waiting tables—but he understood what Levi wanted without having to ask. It was practice, maybe, even though this was all new.

Or it was because they wanted the same thing. To be closer. To hold on tighter.

Eventually, birdsong from the alarm clock interrupted them. Eren rolled over to turn it off. When he rolled back, Levi was looking away. Eren felt a lance of heat at the sight of the other man’s mouth, how his lips were red from all the kissing.

He could remember the feel of them on him.

“Well,” Eren said, noting the way Levi flinched. He laid his hand gently against his shoulder. “Now you definitely can’t pay me.”

Levi’s head turned, and their eyes met. “I suppose not,” he said, seeming chagrinned.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Depends. Will I hate it?”

Eren shook his head, then shrugged. Nerves were roiling around in his stomach, making him twice as awkward as usual. He huffed a laugh. “I don’t think so. But you have to promise not to freak out in a bad way.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded.

“I haven’t had another client for over a month. I’m closing the business. But—um. I’m willing to continue on a volunteer basis with you. You know. If you want.”

Color flooded Levi’s cheeks. “For over a month? Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Not… really. Unless it came up.”

Levi covered his face with his arm as if it might hide his embarrassment. “You’re such a brat.”

“You’re not pissed off, are you?”

“How could I be pissed off?” He sighed and moved the arm, then frowned. “Hm. Maybe I am pissed off. I’ve spent the past several months telling myself I couldn’t ask you out, and now you’re telling me I could have at any time? That’s time I’m not getting back, you know.”

Eren’s mouth curved into a half smile. His body was a mess of dopamine and random tingling, so it was hard to care much about Levi’s annoyed tone. “I’m sorry. Did you want to ask now? Go ahead.”

“If you wipe that shit-eating grin off your face maybe I will.”

“Sorry, I—the grin is not optional for the time being.”

Levi tackled him, pinning him to the bed, his hands around Eren’s wrists and his weight firmly on Eren’s hips. Eren’s breath came in short gasps, warmth rushing though him, but before the grin could return, Levi claimed his mouth in a kiss—a long one that made his whole body go weak.

“Eren Jaeger,” Levi said, at last, when they were both breathing raggedly. “Will you go out with me already?”

“Yes,” Eren replied—and drew him back down.


End file.
